


Dera em

by Laintadhg



Series: Vun or ma Vhenan - Banal'ras or ma Sil [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First kiss outside of the fade, Foreshadowing for douchebaggery, No touching outside of the fade, Non-mage Inquisitor - Freeform, Sexual Frustration, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laintadhg/pseuds/Laintadhg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You what? You’re not interested in a real, flesh-and-blood woman?” She bit out, her mind jumping wildly to new conclusions about why he’d never shown any physical interest in her. Maybe he never wanted it to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dera em

I’ain was flustered. No, more than flustered. She was frustrated, fed up, and borderline _furious_. Since Solas had first kissed her in the fade, he’d steadily advanced the intensity of their nightly liaisons. They’d moved through the soft tentative kisses, handsy makeout sessions, and even the most satisfying lovemaking – but only ever in the fade.

In the realm of the wakeful, he remained friendly and warm, but never laid a finger on her corporeal form. She sometimes wondered if she had been shacking up with a desire demon in his form each night, but he always had a way of acknowledging the goings on, albeit subtly. It was usually just a knowing grin or a lusty look in passing, but more than once he’d asked her how she’d slept, insinuating that she must be rather tired from their activities.

And though the dreams were expertly crafted to her every whim and desire, she wanted them – needed them, really – to become reality. Otherwise this fury, this utter irritation and need for physical release, was going to boil over in a rather unpleasant manner. So, after a long journey back to Skyhold from the Hissing Wastes, she marched with purpose in her step towards Solas’ vestibule in the tower.

“Ah, you’ve returned,” He noted as she entered the space, his tone almost excited, though he didn’t turn. He was touching up the mural where it looked like fire had scorched through the first layer of paint. She’d have to ask about that, but only after she’d given him a piece of her mind.

“Indeed.”

“All went well, I trust? No casualties?” He asked, dabbing a bit of white over the burnt plaster, still not facing her.

Her fists balled up beside her and she had to fight the urge to blurt out precisely what was on her mind. The open-concept of the tower floors was excellent for getting things done expediently, but lacked much in the way of privacy. And Solas was nothing if not private.

“Yes. No, I mean…Yes, there were no casualties. Solas, I have some…sensitive matters I’d like to discuss with you,” She did her best to use the cool diplomatic tone Josephine had been having her practice. It made her sound confident, but considerate, a trait admired by players of the game. Solas, however, was not always a fan of it.

“Oh? Have the peasants in my land become unruly once more?” He said dryly, a smirk no doubt touching the corners of his lips, though she couldn’t see it. She, however, was in no mood for jokes.

“ _Telamdys ra_ , look at me when I’m speaking to you,” She ground out, not wanting to yell and attract unneeded attention, but very much wanting his. She watched his shoulders tense as he completed a brushstroke and pulled back from the wall. Finally turning to face her, he walked to his desk and set down his tools, picking up a cloth to wipe his hands clean silently. When he had finished, he looked at her dead-on and made a gesture for her to continue.

“You have my full and undivided attention, Inquisitor.”

Sighing, she suddenly knew she’d gone about this all wrong. Any playfulness that had been in his voice was now gone, replaced with the chilly indifference he gave to strangers. Rubbing at the bridge of her nose, she tried to reign in her rage and bring it down to a mild exasperation, which was harder than it sounded. “I’d like to…we should really discuss this in my chambers. Away from prying ears.”

“Please, Inquisitor, any business you have with me can be discussed right here,” The remaining warmth in his voice was sapped out with those words and she found herself regretting this conversation already, but she plowed ahead anyways.

“…Okay, smart arse, then tell me why you’ll gladly fuck me senseless in the fade, but you can’t be bothered to venture a kiss on my cheek when you’re not asleep? Hm?” She blurted out, none too softly. His eyes widened at her words and she could see the gears spinning out of control behind them. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“…I’ain, I…”

“You what? You’re not interested in a real, flesh-and-blood woman?” She bit out, her mind jumping wildly to new conclusions about why he’d never shown any physical interest in her. Maybe he never wanted it to begin with.

“That is an unfair judgement, I’ain.”

“Yes, well, it doesn’t seem too far off the mark, now does it?”

“I will not have this argument. It is pointless.”

“You fucking _cock_ is pointless unless you have any intention to stick it in me!” She shouted, bursting with her frustrations before promptly turning on her heel and stomping off to her bedroom.

Back in the vestibule, Solas was reeling from the conversation himself. How could she not know how he felt about her? How badly he wanted her in any, each, and every way he could have her?

 _Perhaps because you have not told her,_ He noted internally, sighing and shaking his head.

Above, Dorian was leaning over the balustrade with a cheeky grin beneath his trimmed moustache. “She’s right you know. About your cock.”

Solas shot him a glare and went back to his painting.

 

* * *

 

 

When Solas heard the cry for help from his Wisdom Spirit friend, he brought it up to I’ain immediately and, of course, she acquiesced to his request. He knew, on some level, that this would grow the rift between them, the one that had split open a few weeks prior during their brief conversation about intimacy. Since then, she had all but avoided him, not bringing him along during her trips, not visiting with him afterwards. She didn’t leave the room if he ever entered, but she didn’t seek him out, either.

On the road to the Exalted Plains, he thought long and hard about her perspective in their quasi-relationship. She was a woman of action, albeit in a less obvious manner compared to someone like Cassandra, but she still believed in doing something rather than chatting about it. Additionally, she’d never been with a mage before this, let alone one who could visit her dreams and stimulate her innermost desires without ever touching her. And touch, he was finding, was very important to her.

Though he’d never considered it before, if he thought about it truthfully, she was very tactile in her daily life. After a hard-fought battle, she slapped Varric on the back, dangled from Dorian’s arm like a child, or clapped hands with Cassandra in what they called a “high-five”. When a wounded soldier tried to put on a brave face for the Herald of Andraste, she squeezed his hand between hers and prayed for him in Dalish until he drifted off to sleep. Even in her most playful moments, she ran around, arm-in-arm with Gyanwyr, skipping and jumping and just _touching_ everything and everyone in their path, no matter if they liked it or not. Touch was paramount to displaying emotion for her, particularly since she tucked most of those emotions away to deal with the challenges she faced.

Alternatively he hadn’t touched anyone in a _very_ long time. Not with any meaning behind it, anyways. His comfort with intimacy in the fade had worked in his favor at first, particularly since she’d still found the idea novel and exciting. The novelty, however, had obviously worn off and she was left wanting something more familiar, which he could hardly blame her for. She had been right to question his motives behind keeping their activities out of the physical realm, but he knew he couldn’t explain himself, not fully, not in a way that would satisfy her. But if she only knew how he ached to feel the warmth of her skin blossom under his fingers, the thrum of her pulse on his lips, the slickness of her on his tongue…Well, she wouldn’t need an explanation to be satisfied.

When they finally came upon the field where his friend has been summoned and captured, all thoughts of intimacy were gone and Solas could barely contain his anger. I’ain spoke to the mages on his behalf while he seethed quietly beside her, eyes trying to bore holes into the whelp of a mage who had summoned the spirit. Shortly thereafter they came to an agreement to unbind the creature rather than kill it, for which was grateful, though he did not show it.

As they approached the summoning circle, he threw himself into battle with a ferocity none of his companions had ever seen before. His staff threw flames that burned blue as he scorched one pillar into dust while his left hand charged and released a powerful barrier onto his friend. He barely noticed the others around him as he continued on, his focus solely on releasing the binding as quickly as possible. It took a startled yelp from I’ain some time into the battle to draw him out of his rampage.

The rogue, who was working on a pillar from a distance with her bow, had been snapped up with the demon’s whip and pulled in close to its hulking form. Stunned by the electricity, she couldn’t move away as the beast stepped on her chest, a vile chuckle rising from its lungs as it pressed down slowly. Cassandra, Dorian, and Gyanwyr were focusing on the pillars and too far away to notice until a loud crack signaling ribs breaking was accompanied by a shrill scream tore from the Inquistor’s throat.

“ _NO!_ ” He shouted, voice coarse as he ran to her aid, flames searing forward at the demon’s face. The beast roared and stumbled back, releasing I’ain from beneath it in the process and whatever anger he had felt was instantly replaced by fear. Cassandra was there an instant later, taunting and grabbing the demon’s attention away while Solas skid on his knees next to I’ain. He raised her head and pressed a potion to her lips, but the shimmering green liquid just sloshed out of her mouth and across her cheeks. She was not bleeding, not that he could see, but that said nothing about her internal injuries. Alas being unable to cast complex healing spells so quickly, he could not do much more for her. “ _Odhea, ma vhenan…! Odhea! Sathan!_ ”

Time seemed to move slowly from that moment on, each heartbeat lasting a lifetime as he shouted to his companions for help, panic-stricken. In his lap, I’ain was sputtering, wheezing, struggling for breath as she grimaced and held her side. His friend-turned demon was gone from his mind, the sounds of battle far away beneath the rogue’s ragged breath, and his mind spiraled around a single thought: _I’m losing her_.

“Help, you fools!” He thundered, thinking his calls had gone unheard, but a voice to his left caught him by surprise. Gyanwyr, I’ain’s cousin and closest confidante, had appeared out of thin air at his side, kneeling in the mud to assess the woman’s injuries.

“ _Josh_ , Solas,” The younger elf instructed calmly but firmly, pressing a soothing hand to his shoulder and gently pushing him out of the way, “ _Ar ema min. Halani a falon._ ”

“I – “

“ _Dara_ , _dara_ ,” The pale elf tutted, his eyes closed as his hands began to glow a pleasant gold color, roving just above his cousin’s chest and stopping only once he’d found the broken bits of her insides. With a look containing equal parts confusion and worry, Solas headed back to the battle.

Dorian shot the elf a cautious look, his hair sweaty and ragged over his eyes as he cast a barrier on Cassandra and continued attacking the pillars. The warrior had been single-handedly distracting the demon from the rest of the party since I’ain had gone down, but she didn’t look any worse for wear. Taking stock of the situation, Solas readied his staff and cleared his mind for the battle with a deep breath.

“Dorian! Bring down the pillar to your right! I’ll focus on the center!” He shouted the command as rushed towards his designated pillar, “Cassandra – “

“Keep it away from I’ain, I know!” The frank Neverran accent shot back before he could finish. Right. Of course she knew that.

When the final pillar fell, Solas gave his spirit friend a mournful farewell before turning his attention back to the mages. I’ain was still being tended to by Gyanwyr, so there was no one of authority to stop him from enacting his revenge. Fire and lighting and ice blurred his vision as he chased them each down and slaughtered them and all cries for mercy fell on long, deaf ears. He had no desire but to make them suffer the way they had made the spirit and I’ain suffer.

 

* * *

 

 

I’ain returned from the Exalted Plains a few weeks later, having needed time to heal and an alliance to build with Hawen’s Clan. Still, Solas hadn’t been seen within the fortress walls yet and the Inquisitor was starting to feel concerned. With the way they’d left things, how he’d been fighting with such abandon on the plains to save the spirit, she worried that she might never get to repair what she felt she’d broken. When a messenger told her that the elven apostate was sighted climbing the mountain, however, she knew she had her chance to fix things.

Of course, that would take a few days, seeing as their first conversation at the gates had been tentative, at best. So, waiting him out one afternoon, she sat with Dorian and Gyanwyr in the library until she was sure Solas was engrossed in his painting below. Rising, she bid her two friends adieu and padded down the staircase quietly.

“Solas…” She called softly from the bottom of the stairs, watching as he set down his paints and wiped off his hands quickly. He stepped closer after a moment, but did not invade her space.

“Yes?” He asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“…If you have a moment, I’d…like to discuss something,” She ventured, looking down at her own feet, which were unusually bare. She’d grown accustomed to being barefoot again during her time with the clan on the plains. The grasses were soft and even the rocks were smooth from the river, so she’d foregone boots while she healed. Being back home in Skyhold, she saw no reason to don footwear on the worn stone of her hold.

“As would I.” He nodded once and gestured towards the door to the main hall. She walked ahead of him and, just as they were through the door, she swore she heard Dorian whistle.

The walk up to her quarters was quiet, their nerves palpable between them, but she tried to steel herself for whatever came next. Because, if she was being honest, she had no idea where their conversation was headed.

“What were you like? Before the anchor?” He asked when they reach her balcony, eyes searching for answers beyond his question. She looked at the green mark on her hand, uncovered while she’s in the safety of her keep, but she didn’t have an answer right away. He prodded, trying to dig into the thoughts she’d been keeping to herself, “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... spirit?”

She rolled her eyes at his question, figuring he had some cryptic reason behind asking it, as usual. “If it had, _hahren_ , do you really think I’d’ve noticed?”

He grinned, a warmth in his eyes as he gazed at her from across the balcony. Such a clever woman, sharp, witty, and never one to let his vague questions go without an inquiry of her own. He loved that about her. “No. That’s an excellent point.”

“Why do you ask?” She queried in reply, her eyes narrowing, trying to figure out where he was headed with all this. She thought they’d come here to discuss their relationship, not the Creator-damned mark on her hand. But this, she reminded herself, was Solas, mystery-mage extraordinaire, and it was entirely likely that she would never truly understand his motives.

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since…” He very nearly blurted out ‘since the days of Arlathan’, but he recovered quickly, “Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the fade. You are not what I expected.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I’ain gave a smirk as she looked down to her feet, knowing that those words were a compliment from her _hahren_. He had a funny way of saying nice things to people and it had taken some getting used to, but at this point she was fairly certain she could differentiate between his compliments and his insults. Most of the time.

“It’s not disappointing, it’s…” He trailed off, turning to the mountains as he tried to gather his words. He wanted to say this right, wanted her to understand why her being different was so important, what it meant in regard to how he felt towards her as both a leader and a woman he’d grown close to. Sighing, he shook his head lightly and looked back up to her curious gaze, “Most people are predictable. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours…Have I misjudged them?”

She shrugged with a smile. Of course it had to do with her heritage, what else would it be? “I don’t hold the Dalish up as perfect, but we have something worth honoring. A memory of the ancient ways. Or something.”

He looked her over for a moment and nodded, as though satisfied with her answer. “Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.”

“So what does this all mean, Solas? I fully admit my confusion here,” She said with a smile and a laugh, knowing this wasn’t the conversation either of them had expected. She hoped he had a satisfactory answer for her as well.

“It means…I have not forgotten what we’ve shared in the fade,” Solas stated with an expression detailing his ardent feelings about their time in the fade together.

“Good.” She stepped closer to him, her smile from before widening. It vanished immediately, however, when he pulled back from her unexpectedly. Taking his hand, I’ain held him in place, voice rough with emotion, “Solas, _sathan tel'dara_.”

Brows knit together tightly, he looked away from her, not wanting to make it even harder to say what he needed to say. “It would be kinder in the long run…”

The battle weeks prior flashed through his mind and his heart ached while his stomach twisted in knots as he relived the fear of being without her. True as his words about kindness were, he could not leave her, not like this, not after all they’d been through, all he’d let himself feel for her. He knew he would have to make a choice down the line, but here, now…He couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t, really. “But losing you would…”

“Solas, I – “ Standing in silence beside him had been agonizing and she had to plead her case. She would deal with their relationship remaining in the fade, handle all his secrecy, and even the anti-Dalish comments if he would just stay. She wanted to make it work, no matter what, but she found she didn’t have to plead anything when his lips were on hers a moment later.

His arm slid around her waist and pulled her close, deepening the kiss with the angle from their minor height difference. Knees weak from the sudden and passionate embrace, she clung to his wool shirt, thankful for the sturdy hold he had on her. When she recovered her footing, He grinned and pulled back, his eyes youthful and teeming with mirth in that moment, something she’d never seen on him before. She didn’t have time to think on it, however, when the next kiss came, more heated than the last. His tongue traced her lips expertly, begging for access which she gladly gave, and pressed in to toy with her own slick muscle. Lips smiling against hers midst another kiss his free hand reached up and caressed her face, fingers sliding back behind her ear deftly. Slim digits traced the sensitive shell and she felt her face grow hot.

A soft whimper escaped her when he slipped his arm from her waist and backed away slightly, heavy lidded eyes locked onto hers as his thumb stroked her cheek. One last, sweet kiss passed between them before Solas stepped out of reach and started out of the room, turning just past the balcony door to whisper a declaration of sorts, “ _Ar lath, ma vhenan_.”

Catching her breath, I’ain stared after him, fingers touching her lips as if to feel where his had just been. “ _Ar lath ma tas…_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Dera em - "Touch me"  
> Telamdys ra – “Damn it”  
> Odhea, ma vhenan…! – “Breathe, my heart…!”  
> Sathan!! – “Please!!”  
> Josh, Solas – “Move, Solas”  
> Are ma min. Halani a falon. – "I have this. Help your friend."  
> Dara, dara – “Go, go”  
> Hahren – “Elder/Old Man” – Term of endearment from I’ain to Solas.  
> Sathan tel’dara – “Please don’t go”  
> Ar lath, ma vhenan – “I love you, my heart”  
> Ar lath ma tas – “I love you too”
> 
> Massive thank you to FenxShiral for the superb documentation of the language in Project Elvhen ( http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061 ), which I've used extensively for this and other ficlets! Also big props to the folks who then made this lexicon into a translator at Elven DAI Translator ( http://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI ) and a searchable Dictionary/Google Sheet Elven DAI ( https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1M4hVCUbdo9rGv24eeh78CTLp9zOHkFkl0rLUqWfm7E0/edit#gid=919031193 ). These tools are INVALUABLE in making any sense of the shit I pull together and call elvhen. KUDOS HOMIES.
> 
> This was supposed to be porn. I'm mad it's not porn. Solas steered me away from the porn. I'ain is right there with me, all about bangin' her silver fox -ahemwolfahem-, but the words just wouldn't go there. The feels distracted me from the sex. Fuckin' A.
> 
> Also, I'ain is pronounced "EE-ain", 'cause that's a capital "i" not an "L". I'm not so vain to name a character after my own username...mostly.


End file.
